Schipachev Stepan Biography

Where is the birch, pockmarked and rare, where the smoke of the luster melts, he, gray, sits on a branch and holds in the beak of the worm. But this is he, simple, inconspicuous, frozen at night from dew, the village of Dachnaya at the suburban strip is fascinated. Yes, and friends, that younger, admitted, tired of me: I can’t shake the other hand, so as not to say about gray hair.

Well, we were in a hot business. Years will pass - they will speak, as we are thirty years old and did not get old at sixty. Love is not sighs on a bench and not walking at the moon. Everything will be: slush and powder. After all, you need to live life together. Love with a good song is similar, but it is not easy to fold the song. The cloud goes, dark, bright.

Two travelers the road distant. Passing apple trees passes, a thick currant with a fellow traveler of a random teacher is young. Not knowing who he was, he was silent halfway and pounded the maple on apple trees. Then we talked. But, approaching the wall, the rain rustled along the leaves and poured out the spill. They turned under the maple; Its foliage is gust, but heavy water falls through the leaves.

They covered themselves with a head with one cloak, and the girl pressed her shoulder to his chest ... A car goes to the area. The driver is ridiculous: they stand, covered, two, and the rain has passed for a long time. He is here, in my window, the stars are distant, although he fled to me one hundred and forty thousand years. And you drive an hour, and how long to get together!

But no, to guess to come now. Rye swayed, Kolos matured. The young Budyonnovsky fighter at the sword was kissing the girl. The guy had a bully Chub, a boyish fluff was on his lip. The maid called. But the guy is good, and this guy is loved by the girl. He kissed his life for the first time. In the field - blue and rye from all sides. He left ... and a squadron galloped into the attack in an hour.

Sums of dew from dew. The girl has a lump in his throat. The guy is cut off on the spot with a bullet. Rye swayed, Kolos matured ... There were years. Think over the line, my unfamiliar friend is dear. Maybe you are seventeen years old and you are not happier in the country. The stars shine, the city is puffed up, you are in love, you forgot about everything, or maybe you are happy in love because it has not loved.

And on an impenetrable winter evening, believing in the victory in advance, her Buran takes by the shoulders, takes white hands. But, thin, breaking it, they will get out of strength ... She, see, is straight character, is true to someone third. A member of the Communist Party with the son of a peasant, who was around early orphaned, from 9 years old he recognized the work of a laborer, a worker in the mines.

In the spring he was drafted into the army. From the beginning to - in the Red Army; Schipachev’s poems were printed in local newspapers, leaflets. In Shchipachev he graduated from the Literary Department of the Institute of Red Professors. The first collection of his poems “according to the mounds of centuries” is filled with cosmic pathetics “cosmritorial”, according to his own definition.

The collections “one six” and “contrary to the borders” in the middle of the X were also first sounded for the first time in the poetry of Shchipachev lyric intonation. The best collections of these years - “under the sky of my homeland” and “lyrics” inherited from Russian classical poetry the poetry of the verse, Schipachev gave a new, modern sound of the themes of nature and love poems “Recognition”, “Elena”, “July” and others.

In Schipachev, a participant in the liberation of Western Ukraine; With the beginning of the Great Patriotic War - an employee of the front -line press. In the verses and poems of this time, the lyrical principle merges with the heroic collection “Front Poems”,; The poet recreates the image of the Motherland, the image of V. Lenin’s poem “House in Shushensky”, in the postwar years, such famous works of Shchipachev appeared as the collection of “Poems”; State.

In the poems “Heir”, “Starfish”, “Scene - Earth’s Ball”, both, “Song about Moscow”, “12 months around the Sun”, a poetic story about the past develops into a hymn to today's achievements. The new poems of Shchipachev, saturated with civilian motives, philosophical thoughts, imbued with an acute interest in the inner world of the man, to the environment, entered his book “Comrades in Life” by Schipachev, which are very popular with the Soviet reader, translated into foreign languages ​​and languages ​​of the peoples of the USSR.

Prose, M. Essay on Life and Creativity, M. Lyric Stepan Shchipachev, M. Pechko Brief Literary Encyclopedia: in 9 tons, my father died when I was four years old. Mother stayed with a bunch of children. I was the youngest. It became difficult to live.

My grandmother had to walk with me to ask me for alms. The teenager was launched, worked on asbestos mines. I fell in love with poetry in a church school. I remember, the teacher, before asking to learn the poem "Borodino", read it aloud. It stunned me. For several days I walked like a stunned one, repeating him by heart. Maybe then the first spark of poetic excitement sunk into my soul.

In May, I was drafted into the army. He served as an ordinary in the city of Glazov, where he soon became close to the Bolsheviks: the ensign M. Dragunov and the student I. during the Civil War participated in battles with the Ural Beloksaki. In the spring of the year, he graduated from a cavalry school in the city of Orenburg, after this - pedagogical courses in Moscow, after which he taught social studies in military schools for several years: in Crimea, in Ukraine, finally in Moscow.He did not stop working hard on verses.

In the year, a literary association of the Red Army and Navy Lokaf was created, in the organization and work of which I took an active part. In the fall of the year, I entered the Institute of Red Professors for the Literary and Creative Department. For the first time in many years, I changed my military uniform to a civilian suit. But a feeling of gratitude forever connected me with our army.

For many years, my poems were destroyed by rhetoric, but by the middle of the X, lyrical poems began to appear more and more often. The poem "Elanin" was written. In general, it did not work out and was not printed, but many lyrical places were viable and subsequently began to exist as separate independent works. This finally defined me as a lyrics. The greatest good luck brought me a year.

Then I wrote more than twenty lyric poems. In the year, these verses were published by a separate book. New things of this plan began to appear in the magazines. Criticism spoke amicably about me. Some writers also responded. I was especially pleased with the letter of A. Streeting about my work, he added: “Live and think in your own way. Poetry is a rare success. ” In the fall of the year, I participated in the liberation campaign of our army to Western Ukraine.

During the Great Patriotic War, he was always associated with a military seal. In the summer, he wrote a poem about Lenin “House in Shushensky”, a little later - the poem “Pavlik Morozov”. Especially fruitful in my work were the years. That's perhaps that’s all. I would like to remind you of the story “Birch juice”, in which I talked about my childhood.